Rain
by oldstuff
Summary: Niva of Ramon loathed Isas from her first glance of him.rn"Gods of mercy, save me before I kill this half-twit of a boy." What she didn't know was that gods always answer- at just the wrong times.
1. Falling

**Rain**

Chapter 1

As famed as Lightsbridge Academy for producing mages with unheard of skills and prowess and surrounded by an aura of quiet, rural tranquility, Niva of Ramon felt a home and at peace, even though her real home was miles away, a small farming village called Ramon. She had only recently entered the temple community in hopes of completing her novitiate. Her first step into the area had made her nearly sing with joy- she could feel the light, the life around her, serene lights that played before her eyes whenever she approached a garden, the chorus of voices she alone could hear. The plants here were more alive than she had ever heard a plant to be, and she sang to them as they sang back.

Plants had always called to her in this way, though she had never known the reasons behind it until recently. The real reasons for her skill had been shrouded in mystery and superstition and ignorance. When Niva had been about eight or nine years old, the village hedge witch had studied her as she studied all the children in hopes finding a child with magical aptitude. The report had come back to her father that she was a good, strong girl, that she would go far- but not in the field of magic. The news crushed the hopes he had cultivated secretly, that his only daughter would be magically endowed. Needless to say, he and her brothers had been terribly disappointed.

It seemed at the time that her only gift was a love for plants. At a young age, Niva found she could easily coax the most stubborn shoots to bloom; the plants understood her defiant nature and soothed her soul when it seemed she would never recover from the misfortunes life aimed toward her- her best friend being brutally raped, her father locking her in the cellar for helping a neighbor grow plants- the cool green light of the plants, the calmness they seemed to radiate at all times, pacified the fiery, stubborn fire Niva seemed to glow with.

She needed their serenity now, as she sat quietly in class and struggled to pay attention. Hyrt Brighteyes, the mage who had taken her from her home and showed her a whole new home, had taught her basic reading and writing, which she devoured eagerly once she learned that the queer black symbols were a language to help her learn. But the classes at Winding Circle held in the Earth Circle, could not be devoured as easily.

Most of the girls, Niva had to concede, were from rich, snobbish families, whose surnames were their passports in life, guaranteeing them every comfort and luxury available. Niva had no such luck, and the comforts many of the wealthier students took for granted she did not possess at all. She slept in the same dormitory as the other girls, she received no allowance from doting parents to spend on the days students had no classes, and her clothes were only the leave-behinds other students left in the laundry permanently, that the kindly matron gave her to mend to fit her stocky frame. Niva scarcely spoke to any of the girls, and they were content with watching her down their noses, giggling in turns and whispering at night after lights-out.

The boys were another world entirely. They studied diligently, but in their spare time teased, flirted, and generally mocked every female their age and below it. Niva was a common butt of the few jokes she did hear, but the boys had yet to say one to her face- though at first glance she seemed innocently pretty, with slightly curled auburn hair framing alabaster skin and large brown eyes, her tongue was anything but innocent, and her stubborn chin left nothing to imagination.

Only one boy made direct contact with her, and she had been disgusted with him ever since. She knew he was called Isas, but that was the extent of her outside knowledge about him- all other information she had concluded herself. He was taller than her by a head, with long arms and limbs that swung every which way, a blade-thin, long nose that he used to look down on people, and short black hair that was unruly and coarse as he was to her. She had not developed an enmity with anyone as of yet, but she could see herself acquiring one with Isas.

Whenever Isas passed her, he never missed the opportunity to glare down the length of his nose at her, only to receive a fierce scowl that left many students tongue-tied and frozen in place. Unfortunately, the glare she had used as her own passport around school did not carry a similar effect on Isas. He commonly quoted his family name (as did many other rich students) as his token in the small temple community. Even more disgusting to her was the fact that they were both studying plant magic, one of scarce few students in the entire academy, which meant that they also shared classes as well.

It was in the class now that Isas had taken a seat adjacent hers, glaring at her with renewed vigor. Their bustling teacher arrived, her green habit swishing around her. She was a no-nonsense lady with a strict disciplinary code that was sure and swift. As soon as she entered, she began to dictate notes on the recognition of plants in oil form, which the students dutifully copied down on spare parchment. Niva wrote as tiny as she could- parchment was expensive, a detail that had been hammered into her mind at birth.

Writing small was the least of her worries. She had not yet mastered the art of writing, and was having trouble now keeping up with the teacher. Some words she could not understand and wrote them as she heard them, vowing to look them up later.

Isas watched her smugly. "Can't write?" he whispered. "Too bad."

Niva glared fiercely at him. "I'll make your beak longer if you don't shut up. That pen'll do good for the job."

Ignoring the slur on his nose, he continued, "Can't see how they let a farmer's girl in."

"Can't see how they let some prissy, twitterpated cloud-brains in, either. Your ma still has to wipe you, I'll bet."

The teacher suspiciously glanced their way, so both scribbled anxiously until she looked away. The teacher then announced, "Students! Today we are studying the recognition of herbs and flowers, such as the novellas proptusa. This is not a new concept; we have been studying it for several weeks. We will begin by a brief meditation to clear our thoughts. Then, look at the covered parcels on your desk and use them to discern each herb and flower."

Niva obediently shut her eyes and began to meditate. All around her, other students were meditating as well, though they were having trouble with it. Niva had learned to meditate from the ornery village hedgewitch, who believed that it did a child a world of good to learn, and had little trouble calming her mind and releasing her thoughts. After several minutes, Niva inhaled deeply, taking in all the scents next to her. Seeing Isas scrambling to write the answers on parchment, Niva scribbled down the names of the scents she recognized.

Cinnamon, she wrote thoughtfully. The spicy sweet aroma that she had grown familiar with was a new scent to her, but she adored it already. Rose petals were in the next parcel, she realized as she rubbed it to release the fragrance, and lily petals in the third. There was some jasmine, an exotic white flower she had grown to adore for its honey sweet fragrance. As she jotted down the scents, she snuck a swift glance at Isas, who met her eyes squarely, his thick eyebrows meeting as he scowled at her.

_Here it comes_, she thought with a sigh.

"Stop cheating," he said loudly, frowning at her. She glared back.

"You don't have 'em, why bother cheating?" she replied tartly.

"I do so, you're just-"

"Children!"

Both froze in their tracks.

"Since you seem to be pressed for conversation, continue it with First Dedicate Airhawk. Now."

Isas got up with a huff, slamming his books together as he exited the classroom. Niva shrugged and walked out the door, though silently she was trembling with fear. First Dedicate Airhawk had once made a boy recite every lie he had ever told when the boy refused to tell the truth about cheating on an exam. Rumor had it that the poor boy had stood delivering the list for hours, and had collapsed on the spot when the spell released him. He was called "Honest Hory" now, because he had never lied again.

That was not the extent of Airhawk's powers. Supposedly, he could scry the present, and watched the students continue through their daily activities with a scrutinous eye. Though she had never met Airhawk personally, experience told her that anyone who held a larger consequence than the gods in Earth Temple was worth avoiding.

Isas and Niva held their mute silence for scarce seconds, both contemplating what awful things would happen to them if Airhawk was not in a good mood. Isas broke the silence first. "This is your fault."

"No, it's not," Niva hissed. "Stop being prissy and acting as if it's all my fault when it's not."

"It is your entire fault, I don't need to act."

"Wanna act in pain?" she snapped. She was already tired of Isas, and would have dearly loved to knock him up a bit if she had not been warned that physical infliction of pain was prohibited. Instead, she contented herself to imagining him in serious hurting.

"I would love to see you try," he taunted. Niva took a deep breath, barely containing herself from landing a blow on him that would knock him out cold.

"And waste breath on a half-stick, jumped up noble's son who can't keep his beak outta my business when-"

"Admit the truth. You are scared stiff." Each word following was enunciated perfectly. "Just like a girl."

Nothing infuriated Niva more than those words "like a girl".

_I oughtta knock your head through your sandals, _she growled inwardly.

"Not as stiff as your beak," she retorted.

"I don't have a beak."

"Fine then, a blade of a nose. I've seen horses with shorter noses'n yours."

"But their manes weren't as coarse as your mane of hair," he sniffed.

_Gods of mercy, save me before I kill this half-twit of a boy._

"Least I got hair, not an oiled rag top of my head," Niva countered.

Unknowingly the pair had reached Airhawk's office. Both hesitated in front of the wooden door until Niva knocked boldly and waited, hopping with impatience. She wanted to leave, now, leave this brazen crane of a boy with his too-long arms and nose and go back to the gardens she had discovered behind the dormitory.

A gruff voice came from inside. "Enter!"

Niva opened the door and stepped in, followed by Isas.

Niva had never seen the Dedicate, but had to agree that he made an impressing figure seated on a leather chair at a mahogany desk that held a small bowl of crystal clear water. A receding hairline was offset by the most spectacular beard Niva had ever laid her eyes on, bushy and salt and pepper flecked, with more salt than pepper. He was tall, lean, and had frightening dark eyes that seemed to swallow the person whose eyes he was holding. Right now, his view was making her heady and nauseous. Blinking woozily, she stopped trying to meet his eyes squarely and stared at her feet as her muddled head began to clear.

"Isas, slurring her family name will not aggravate Niva in the slightest," he began as soon as they cautiously entered the small office. "It is below a young man of your age and stature, and I expect you to refrain from it in the future."

Both jumped, startled at the thought that the infamous Dedicate knew what had happened. It made the whole situation from frightening to eerie.

Ha, Niva thought smugly as Isas's face tinged with red, though he continued to look at the man, or at least, a point near his head.

"And you, Niva." Airhawk turned his fearsome gaze to her, which she met squarely even as her knees turned to jelly- show Isas how to look at someone properly. "Provoked or not, your comments were also uncalled for."

She didn't bother asking him how he knew what her comments had been. Instead, she shrugged and nodded. The truth was the truth, and they had been more than called for.

"I don't want to see either of you in here again unless it's for a good reason. Understood?"

Niva nodded, as did Isas. Both left feeling slightly abashed, though the mute silence held a tone of relief- they had gotten off easy. The feeling soon faded as another dedicate strode quickly down the corridor. She was infamous for her strong perfume that was washing over them now.

Unknowingly, Niva began to analyze it mentally, as she always did with unfamiliar scents. Meanwhile, Isas was muttering frantically a little in front of her.

"Sweet peas, jasmine, guarana root, and, er, pillory . . ."

"Wrong," Niva sang, delighted to know something he didn't.

He glared at her. "I'm not wrong."

"Yes, you are."

"No."

"Yes. It's sweet pea, jasmine, cowslip, peony, and rose oil." Niva felt entirely certain of the mixture.

"It can't be."

"Watch." Niva quickly caught up with the dedicate and hurriedly bowed. "Dedicate?" she said meekly, the very picture of a humble novice.

The woman turned to her, her snowy white hair fluffy around her droopy face and deep-set blue eyes. "Yes, m'dear?"

"Your perfume. It's lovely."

"Why, thank you, dear." She turned to leave.

"Wait! What's it made of?"

The woman seemed delighted with the attention. "Why do want to know?" she asked, eyeing Isas, who was scowling in the background.

"Oh," Niva continued blithely, "my beau over there said he'd make some for me."

Isas paled with anger, his cheeks subsequently flaming red. Niva stifled a giggle. After getting in trouble so soon, Isas wouldn't dare respond to the jibe, though she would pay dearly for it later.

"Ah, young love," the woman said elatedly, eyeing Isas with a critical eye. "He's a handsome fellow," she whispered to Niva. "Tall, and straight, and lean. And such eyes!"

Niva almost gagged in shock, but contained herself. Barely. "He's well enough." Isas was hardly a specimen of male beauty. "So, what's the perfume got in it?"

The dedicate shook herself from her musings of young love and smiled down at Niva. "Sweet pea, jasmine, cowslip, and peony, with a hint of rose oil for fragrance. It's lovely, isn't it?"

"Stunning," Niva agreed, though silently she said, Just in smaller amounts. "Thank you, mum," she said, a triumphant grin on her face as she walked toward Isas, who was practically steaming at the ears.

"Dear, dear, boy, remember that," Niva said.

He glared at her.

She beamed back.

A.N.- All concrit welcome- this is going to be a three part story.


	2. Pride and Punishment

Rain

Chapter 2

It was early morning the next day when Niva did what could cost her very reputation. Just before dawn, she snuck into the boys' dormitory, a taboo so sacred it was considered equivalent with suicide to break, especially at her age. There were always exceptions if you had a sibling in the dormitory, or were old enough to want to be there overnight and could care less about the consequences, neither of which she wanted to contemplate. In her hands she carried a small glass vial with perfumed liquid, and a small note with her untidy scrawl. Placing both on Isas's desk, she slipped back out just as the first rays of the sun were ascended over the horizon.

Isas studied to vial and read the note, which smelled slightly of rose oil and jasmine. It read:

"I give you till sunset to find out what's in it. Bet you can't."

There was no name, but he didn't need one. The saucy note and the messy writing spoke for itself.

Niva entered her dormitory that night only to find a small note listing the ingredients in her concoction. Attached was a small vial filled with another liquid. Smiling to herself, Niva got down to work.

The years passed with similar bouts of competition between the two, though Niva was not without her own allies and friends. She had made several friends, one in particular a devious girl named Aina who was studying to become a healer.

At sixteen, Niva had gone from pretty to attractive, her waist-length chestnut hair framing creamy skin and large brown eyes. It wasn't a change she admired or noticed, devoted as she was to her studies and completing her novitiate.

Unlike Isas. He had grown as well, from a pompous thirteen years old into an austere and arrogant sixteen year old. More at home with his looks than when he had been as an adolescent, the long arms and legs that seemed to dangle every which way were his trademark appearance. Armed with scruffy black hair and sharp brown eyes, he sent many novices scuttling with a mere glance. And if the glance didn't work, his razor sharp tongue was always a conqueror.

But Niva still loathed him, if loathed was the word to describe the feeling. He was her classmate, and she could ignore him if he ignored her, which was rarely. Few days went by that he didn't make a comment, something to rub her feathers the wrong way. Her reply was always tart and to the point- she didn't dance around a subject when it came to him.

Even so, Niva could not deny the obvious- he was a powerful mage-in-training, with the power and the skills to go far.

_And the money_, she thought bitterly as she entered class and sat down, her long braid thumping against her back. Don't forget that, or he'll remind you sooner or later of his extensive wealth and property at home. _A count's son._

The boys in the class who were Isas's friends (or slaves, depending on how you viewed it) were snorting and choking on stifled laughter as she sat down. Warily she checked her seat and desk, finding nothing. Isas had stooped to putting herbs in her desk that would make her itchy for weeks while she had often given him the pleasure of staying moodily in the privy for hours because of powders she slipped into his drink. But she spotted nothing- the boys were probably being silly, she decided, and shot a glare at one gullible looking one. He froze and looked away, a warning to the others.

The teacher continued the lesson, and it passed normally. But as Niva was walking out, she noticed that none of the boys, not even Isas, were laughing. They were all watching her silently, anticipating something she could not guess.

Aina stuck her tongue out at them as both girls walked out into the courtyard for break, the boys following close behind. Suddenly, Aina froze.

"Oh, Niva," she whispered, staring at her friend. Her normally lovely features were revolted.

"What is it?" Niva asked, looking around. "What's wrong-"

"Your hair," Aina murmured, horrorstruck, her dark brown eyes wide. "Oh, no-"

Niva felt the top of her head. It was perfectly normal, slightly warm from the early summer sun. Feeling down, she expected to feel her thick, waist length braid. Instead, the braid stopped at the nape of her neck; it had been cut off.

The normally bustling courtyard went deadly silent as Niva slowly turned around. Clustered together, the boys watched her expectantly with guilty expressions on their faces. Some were snorting nervously, as though they weren't sure if the situation called for laughter. Anyone with plant magic could feel the plants rousing beneath their feet, feeling their friend's anger and wanting to comfort her. But Niva was beyond comforting- her eyes met Isas's with cold, deadly purpose.

She strode toward them so quickly that they scattered like leaves, leaving Isas in the middle looking rather put off and holding the rest of her braid. "Hello," he drawled, much like his normal self.

Niva could hardly see in front of her, livid with rage. She sent a prayer to the god of revenge, asking for weather magic so she could strike Isas dead where he stood, leaning nonchalantly against a tree, unflappable as ever.

"I didn't do it," he said. "I didn't cut your hair." The truth in his words was unmistakable, but Niva knew that the line that worked so often with her teachers was wasted on her- she knew his game and played it accordingly.

"I know you didn't!" Niva screeched, grabbing the braid from his hand and throwing it to the ground. "You're too high 'n mighty to cut my hair. You got one of them to do it, no doubt." She pointed her chin at the boys who were watching her with wide eyes; they shrank back at her rage.

"I was dared," he said casually, as though remarking on the weather. "I could not resist the temptation."

Dared. A stupid dare had brought him to cut of her hair. Niva stared at him, breathing hard. Suddenly, she brought her hand back and slapped him, so hard that the entire courtyard seemed to echo the sound.

No one moved, though someone hissed in sympathy and was silenced by his neighbor. Isas stared at her. A red mark was appearing on his cheek.

"Apologize," he growled. His brown eyes were sparking with anger.

"Over my dead body," Niva taunted, and thrust him harder. He stumbled back, eyes filling with anger.

"You'll regret that," he said furiously, though he didn't move toward her. The code that said to never hit a female was engraved in every noble male's brain from birth.

"No more than I'd regret killing you," Niva hissed. "You wouldn't dare touch me, and you know it." Aina was also yelling something, but she didn't hear the words. "Coward," Niva spat in his face. "Spineless coward. You can't do anything for yourself, you have to get one of your jumped-up friends to do it all for you-" Niva pushed him again, hard enough to throw him to the ground.

He scrambled up, face livid, but Niva was on him already, tearing at his hair with all her stocky strength. He yelled, his arm flailing and slapping her in the face. Her nose started to bleed almost immediately, though she was certain it had not broken. Isas's face was in worse condition, his nose dripping blood. All codes of honor forgotten, Isas shoved her away, splitting her lip in the process so that she could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. When they both went to hit each other again, they were separated, with much difficulty, by two novices. Niva struggled in Aina's grasp, yelling every foul name imaginable at Isas, who returned the favor with zeal. They were still at it, wriggling to lay hurt on the other, when the First Dedicate Airhawk entered expression dripping deadly venom.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared. The novices fell silent.

"Both of you, in my office, now" he ordered. Both novices let go of them, and Niva and Isas headed to the office, practically steaming at the ears. Isas was pinching the bridge of his sluggishly bleeding nose; Niva, who had found that she was clutching the remainder of her severed braid, was contemplating strangling Isas with it. Just as she was considering how quickly she could run if she did asphyxiate him, Airhawk lead them into his small office.

"Both of you- sit," the Headmaster commanded. Both sat gingerly on the edge of the seats. Niva surveyed Isas with grim satisfaction. His shirt was sodden with sprays of crimson blood, his cheek was bruised, and he looked the worst for wear than she did.

_I'm glad_, she thought obstinately, glaring furiously at Isas as though she could confer the thought by meeting his eyes. As though he felt her fury, he looked at her. His expression, as always, was passive, though he seemed annoyed.

"Frankly, I'm disappointed in both of you," Airhawk said as they sat down. "I expected that two young novices with such potential could resolve petty differences and work together. The work that you two could accomplish, the lives you could save, the differences you could make if you both could bond, are enormous. Few students have passed through these winding roads with the potential you both possess."

Neither spoke, though their mortified expressions were enough.

Airhawk turned to Isas. "Master Isas, this young lady did nothing to provoke what you did to her today, whether you carried out the act or not. It was entirely your idea to do so, and is not the standard behavior worthy of a man of your age and background."

Isas nodded, but did not look at Niva, who was scowling darkly at him, fingering the pitiful remains of her braid.

"And you, Niva." Niva glanced up. "You were warned when you first came to Winding Circle that physical violence was not to be tolerated in the slightest. Physically abusing a student is not a practical form of revenge for a young lady of your abilities, especially when I am certain you are capable of more damage." Niva regretted her rash judgment now, when she knew that a more reasonable and painful method would have been a new powder she had been creating. Maybe later, she decided.

"She's not a young lady," Isas muttered darkly.

"That title belongs to you," Niva hissed back. "All covered in rouge."

Isas fingered the crusted blood with a grim smile, but said nothing.

"As punishment," Airhawk continued as though he had not heard them, "neither of you will enjoy summer vacation this year. You will tend to the dormitory gardens the entire summer."

"I am visiting home over the summer," Isas said with a trace of disbelief. The punishment seemed to have knocked him off his pedestal.

"Cancel the appointment. All summer, you will tend to the garden. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir," Niva mumbled, furious. 'Tending a garden in the summer' was a polite term for nonstop weeding.

"You are dismissed," the Headmaster said. Both teenagers left the office in a huff, Niva still clutching her hank of hair.

A.N.: Well, so far, so good. Thanks for reviews, all!

P.L.

Angel Street! You're back! Or, rather, I'm back and finally typing again. I had to edit Shining Light- I couldn't even look at it without cringing.

Annmarie Aspasia: Well, it's common idea. I'd love to read yours- I am a sucker for Rosie/Crane goodness. The paragraphs don't seem long, but that could just be my program. Thanks for the heads-up!

Lady Leah of Chaos: Fwoo! Thanks, that's really nice! blushes

As always, concrete welcome!

Gwyn


	3. Falling

Rain

Chapter 3

The summer vacation was normally something Niva looked forward to. She never went home over the break- what use was there in visiting her father, who would rail at her for hours about leaving him? Besides, she enjoyed having an Isas-free Winding Circle to herself. Her entire break was ruined because Isas had felt it necessary to cut her hair, which, once she had trimmed it cautiously, was chin-length.

Isas was more irritating and pestering than a gnat. The first day of weeding he came an hour late, but soon set himself to the difficult task. Both stopped for a brief break at midday, gasping from the intense heat. Niva could hardly believe it was only early summer; the weather was absolutely scorching her skin. Even slathered with sun cream, her face and arms still burned terribly.

Days and weeks passed in the same manner. Weeding was tiring work- neither Isas nor Niva had the energy to quarrel. Each day a new batch of weeds appeared, as lively as the day before. It was an interminable chore that she had always disliked before, tending small plots of land as she was use to doing, though now her simple dislike had been elevated to utter loathing.

A month of weeding brought a new change on Isas and Niva. Niva was slightly more civilized with Isas, who was slightly less resentful with her. Both still kept their tart natures, but the weariness of the work had dulled the knives that had been their tempers, and both felt no need to waste energy being callous with the other. The heat was too muddling to start fighting in, and though they had their spats and arguments, they kept mostly to themselves.

In the middle of the second month of summer, while Niva was clipping one of the plants, she spotted Isas studying a plant for signs of dehydration. His wide-brimmed straw hat slipping back of his neck and his brown eyes concentrating, he seemed half-way decent. Smudges of dirt on his nose and face completed the rural look, erasing away the jumped-up, snobby expression he normally carried like a cloak.

"Do I offer you amusement?" he asked without bringing his eyes up from his snipping.

"Yes," Niva replied immediately.

He scowled at her and resumed cutting.

Her eyes sought him out again after several minutes. _He's not so bad for a male_, Niva found herself thinking drowsily, the sun making her feel lethargic. _He's grown into his looks_.

Once she realized what she had just heard herself think, she went rigid with horror. She couldn't believe that thoughts she had often harbored for a particularly handsome mage-in-training that was studying to be a healer, with brown hair and captivating blue eyes, were now aimed at Isas. Shaking her head as though that would rid her of the thoughts, she devoted herself to the task of clipping and weeding and tried not to look at Isas again.

But it was hard, with no one else in the garden. He was a sight as both leaned in their favorite shady spots to sleep- neither had the energy to trek up to their rooms for the midday nap. Sprawled under a tree in the edge of the garden, his hat over his head, he fell asleep almost instantly, sweat dripping down his face even in the shade. Niva watched him under rim of her hat for several minutes until she too dozed off.

The clanging of the bell at three startled them awake. The sun was no longer directly overhead, but Niva still felt hot and stuffy as she resumed her work. As she was turning to tug out a weed, she saw that Isas was watching her with the contentment of a lazy cat as he clipped a plant.

"What're you staring at?" she demanded, feeling hot all over (from the sun, she thought with a hint of defensive air).

"You." The reply was as blasé as a remark on the weather. As blasé as him.

Niva, shocked at his offhandedness, frowned. "Stop it."

"I'll stare if I please," Isas replied haughtily, though he stopped gazing so blatantly.

The stolen glances continued for several days. Neither knew why, though they felt that the reason hinted at utter boredom and sun-stroke mixed with sheer exhaustion. Niva realized that, while she had spoken (or rather, argued) with Isas many times, she knew little about him. But soon suspicious glances turned into muttered words as both, longing for human communication in the silent gardens, spoke hesitantly to each other.

The conversations were benign and innocent as the summer sky. Niva asked politely about Isas's family.

"My father is count of a small fief, in the north. I was planning to go and visit my mother there- she's having another child soon." Isas looked down, as though proper demonstrations of affection were wrong.

Niva felt herself warming to him, if slightly. "Sorry you couldn't go."

The moment was gone. "Well, it was your fault," he snapped. But Niva knew the reason for his anger, and let it go. She knew that if her mother, who had died giving birth to her younger brother, was bearing another child, she would want to be there by her side. Even if it was his own fault he wasn't at his family's fief.

After several moments, Isas looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "How short is your hair?"

Niva glared at him. It was chin-length now, short and simply cut one night in front of a mirror using a pair of scissors. Niva hadn't wanted to leave it jagged and ruined. "Short," she replied simply, showing him.

He looked away. "At least it isn't bushy," he replied after a moment.

Niva glared at him.

"Well, it was," he said. "But just think- your hair now matches your temper." His brown eyes glittered, a laugh bubbling in his throat.

"How?" she demanded severely. He shrugged.

"Their both short now."

The comment should have annoyed her, but it was true. And it was funny, much to her regret. She grinned and resumed her work, though her mind reeled in shock. Isas had just told her a joke- it was startling.

There certainly is more to Isas then meets the eyes, she thought as she attentively clipped a plant. Much more.

Isas watched Niva the next day from under the brim of his wide hat. The moment the Hub clock struck noon she had collapsed under the welcome shade of a tree. Within moments she had fallen asleep, her tanned legs stretched out comfortably on the dusty ground. When it came to dirt, she had no qualms about it on her at all. Her face was dirt-streaked, sweat pouring down and making trails of clean skin through the grime.

She was comely, he admitted grudgingly as he scuffed the dirt with his bare foot. Her shorter hair suited her better, bringing out her stubborn chin. Long lashes cast shadows over her skin, shadows similar to those that the overcast sky was casting. Rain was coming, and soon, but not so soon that they couldn't rest a moment. His eyes lids felt heavy as stones as he closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

Both were awakened by a rude call of nature as fat drops of water began to pelt them. The devious summer rainstorms that were a plant's best friends were a weeder's worst nightmare. Startled, Niva scrambled up and found that within seconds she was drenched, her plain cotton dress clinging to her body, grime washing off in an instant. Isas groaned as he got up, his shirt sopping wet and slapping around him as he looked for shelter. Both found the open shed appealing and slipped in, shivering from the wet water.

The rain showed no signs of letting up, and Niva was not so desperate that she wanted to trudge across the muddy fields in the pouring rain just to get inside. She was content to sit on the floor of the shed and wait for the rain to cease.

Isas wasn't.

"Let's go," he said after several minutes. "The rain is stopping." He rocked back on his heels.

"No, it isn't," Niva snapped, scowling at him. "We'll get bogged down. It's just a summer storm; it'll end in a couple minutes. Be patient."

"Since when were you appointed as a weather witch?" Isas snapped.

"Since never, knuckle brains. It's common knowledge for any twitterpated idiot. Even you should know it."

Isas scowled at her and sat down moodily. After several minutes, the rain still was still descending outside; Isas began to peel off his soaked shirt with a growl of exasperation.

Niva, who had been benignly gazing out the door, stiffened. Isas noticed her frozen body and shrugged. "I'm wet and cold. If we're not going, I might as well dry off."

He was right, she knew, so why was she suddenly so shy? She had seen her brothers bare-chested plenty of times when she was younger. He leaned his bare back against the wall thoughtfully, his soaked and crumpled shirt at his feet.

Niva did not look at him. She blushed too easily for comfort, what with her pale skin and all, and her cheeks were flamed already. Isas didn't seem to notice at all, intent on watching the falling rain. After another ten minutes of waiting, the rain was still coming down heavily. Isas stood. She huddled down further, feeling uncomfortable in the sodden dress. Remembering the shin-length shift under the cotton dress, that was not as wet and was thick enough to preserve decency, she stripped off the dress.

_If society says he can, I might as well_, she thought. _Besides, it'll be back on me in seconds._

Niva's shaken expression from before was nothing compared to Isas's, who looked taken aback. Stunned, he watched her wring out the soggy dress, shake it out until it was more or less dry, and then tug it back on. "If you can, I can too," she snapped in response to the unwritten question on his face. He shrugged and looked away, his cheeks crimson.

The sky continued to pour outside. The plants welcomed the rain- Niva could hear their voices crying in relief as their parched roots greedily sucked in the mineral-filled rainwater.

_Glad someone's happy,_ Niva thought as she shivered from the cold. _Someone's glad it's raining._

Isas's normally drawling tone seemed slightly more irritated when he spoke again. "Enough waiting, let's leave anyway," he said impatiently. The muscles on his stomach rippled as he stood- Niva's heart punched a hole through her chest from how quickly it hammered against her rib cage. Then, as he shook the water from his hair, sending droplets of water flying, her stomach fluttered and dropped a foot.

Normal behavior, she assured herself nervously. It's normal to go fluttery when you see a half-naked man.

Even if her mind was talking its normal cool, level, common sense, her heart was not buying the muttered denials. Instead, it was pounding a tattoo on her rib cage. Calming herself down, she shook her head. "No, it's still raining too hard. We'll get bogged down in the mud."

"And what is the point of staying here to rot? It's just mud," he snapped. "Let's just leave."

"No," Niva snapped, furious now, all her previous, unsettling thoughts vanishing like smoke fueled by her anger. "I'm not getting muddy for your perverse enjoyment!"

"I can't just go in without you, they'll think you drowned," Isas drawled.

"Or was drowned," Niva growled.

"Come on," he said.

"No." She couldn't believe how ridiculous he was being. "I don't want to go, end of story."

He turned his head up to the roof of the shed, pleading mentally. "Shurri save us," he muttered. Then, turning to her, he grabbed her arm with surprising strength. "Come on. I'll drag you if I have to, but I'm not going in to answer stupid questions just because you felt ornery." He pulled her hard; Niva stubbornly dug her bare feet into the earthen floor and leaned back.

It was no use fighting, she thought as she struggled to stay seated. Isas had more upper arm muscle than she could ever accumulate- even though they did the same work, it was a well-known fact that girls never accumulated much raw muscle. Caught in his iron grip, Niva used her weight to her own advantage to stay down.

Isas grunted and tugged again. Her bare feet slid and tripped Isas, so that he tumbled on top of her.

She gasped, the breath knocked out of her for more than one reason. A split second's fall had brought her closer to Isas that she had ever been in her life, and every part of her was reacting to the contact they were making. Her heart resumed its frantic beating against her rib cage. Niva was not one who easily became distracted, but she was fully distracted now by the feel of Isas's chest against her palms, which she had thrown up to break her fall.

Isas's face was inches from hers, watching her with a curious expression. His chocolate-brown eyes were soft for once, not hard or cold as she had been accustomed to.

Niva felt scared for the first time in years, or so it seemed, for there was no other emotion to describe her tingly palms, her wobbly knees, her winded lungs and her trembling body. Nothing explained why her heart had suddenly leapt up into her throat and why she felt hot all over.

"This is you fault." She could barely speak above a breathless whisper.

"Is it?" Isas murmured back. His breath caressed her cheek, raising goosebumps all over her and making her shiver with pleasure. She barely stifled a sigh- but why did she want to sigh, her frantic mind wondered? If she had been her normal self, she would have been ready to slap him for being so close to her.

"Yes, it is," she replied shakily, trying valiantly to recover her normal brisk voice and failing dismally.

_Gods above, what's wrong with me?_

"Silly," he whispered, his lips meeting hers with the softness of a sigh.

Neither noticed when the rain stopped.

A.N.: TADA! Tis over, unfortunately. I really like this story, and am rather sad it's over. But I do have other ficlets to post up here, and that should be up at the same time as this chapter.

P.L.s

Unknown Dreams: Thanks! As for the hair, it was actually cut off during class, and she only realized it straight afterwards.

Tinkerbell394587: Wow! Thanks, that's really nice of you . . . grammar is something I work at, I can't stand chat stories. I'm glad this story stood up well to your standards!

Angel Street: After dropping off the face of the planet, I'm surprised I remembered my password. This story is a bit more mature grammar and vocabulary wise . . . I'm very proud of it. And the hair issue is the same- it was cut off during class. Isas's little goons were laughing because of the crime they were about to perpetrate.

Sheyana: The hair issue, which again came up, was sort of misleading- the fact was that her hair wasn't snipped until during class. She woke up with normal hair, it was just during class it was snipped off. Thanks for the review!

Gwyn


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